


Two Wrongs

by DarkSideOfMe



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, F/M, Fanfiction, In homage to RAW, Multi, Occlumency, SITM Compliant, Scowl Kink, Starts after ATWT, Threesome, Time Turner (Harry Potter), dramione - Freeform, mild dealing with trauma?, unofficial
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-25
Updated: 2019-08-30
Packaged: 2020-07-29 01:22:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20073802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkSideOfMe/pseuds/DarkSideOfMe
Summary: Since the start of their relationship Draco has always been a considerate lover, but he’s exceptionally attentive whenever Hermione shows an interest in things they haven’t done before (it’s always good to expand your horizons, his mother had taught him). So when Draco realizes that she may be turned on by threesomes, he does the logical thing. He acquires a Time-Turner.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LovesBitca8](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LovesBitca8/gifts).

> Alternative title: "Can Two Wrongs Make a Right?"
> 
>   
  
Dear Loves,  
I love your writing so much.  
I hope this turns out as 'woof' as you were hoping for.  
-DarkSide
> 
> (Please note, it's recommended you only read this _after_ reading LovesBitca8's [The Right Thing to Do](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11472648/chapters/25724661) and [All the Wrong Things](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14452923/chapters/33387135).)

_Prologue _

We’re in the dining room, taking breakfast; she had stayed the night again. “_You_ had the use of a _Time-Turner_ in _third_ year?” I can’t believe it. No, on second thought I can. 

“McGonagall had it approved through the Ministry,” she says as if no further justification should be required. 

I inspect my toast. “I bet the panel was stuffed with old Gryffindors.” 

Her spoon pauses before it can dip into her porridge again. “Do I really have to spend my _breakfast_ defending _The Ministry of Magic_?” Her hand forms a fist around her spoon and she looks like she’s about to bang it on the table like a gavel. It’s wonderful. “It was an _excellent _learning opportunity.”

A snort escapes me. “What do Gryffindors know about taking _advantage_ of opportunity?”

“And what would _you_ have done with it?”

I toss a few quips around in my head but just then the door opens to permit my mother. “Oh,” she says, as if she’s surprised. “Hermione, I didn't realize you were having brunch with Draco.” Of course, it’s _far_ too early for _brunch_, but brunch can be shared with anyone whereas breakfast is a scandal in the wrong circumstances. “So nice to see you again. Please don't let me interrupt.” 

“_Do_ join us, Mother.” I say flatly, knowing she wouldn’t have walked in if she didn’t want to eat with us. I magically move her chair back as she glides to the table and Mippy is at her side in an instant, summoning her usual morning meal (I notice a few extra pieces of fruit on the plate, perhaps in an attempt to be more _brunch_-like). 

That Granger had had the use of a Time-Turner is somewhat sensitive information, and not mine to share, so I shift the conversation. “Did you know that Granger is starting a book club? Their first meeting is tonight.”

Mother turns to her with a vibrant smile, “Oh really? Do tell.”

Hermione beams. “Yes, well. Mr. Hindes is letting me have use of the store for an hour after close on Saturdays. We’re starting with the_ Undesirable_ series.”

“Oh, what fun. Are you going Draco?”

Thank Merlin, no. “Unfortunately, I’ve been invited by Benjamin Ein to watch Quidditch with a group of his business friends. They have a private booth booked for every Saturday night of the season. It sounds like quite a crowd.”

“It _sounds_ like an old boys’ club,” comes a mutter from across the table.

I lay my toast down. “Yes, and it’s a good _opportunity_ to find clients. We talked about this.” 

“I _know_,” she huffs. “It’s a good business move. I just wish we didn’t have to rely on such male-oriented nepotism.”

“Well if any of the housewives from the book club would like to become clients they are more than welcome.”

“So Hermione,” Mother cuts in sweetly. “I assume you’re starting with _Undesirable No. 1_?” It’s one of Mother’s weaker redirections, and little does she know she’s just set me up perfectly. 

“Well, of _course_ Mother. No one would ever read them out of _order_.” When I look at Granger she’s already rolling her eyes at me. “Oh, and love... _do_ remember: if you want members to come back you have to let _them_ speak at some point during the discussion too.”

“Draco.” Mother eyes me until I quietly return to my toast. She’s probably going to let me have it later, but the scowl I received from across the table was completely worth it.

* * *

_Chapter 1 - *a few weeks later, a Wednesday*_

It’s mid afternoon and I’m in my office when a memo flies in and lands in front of me.

_Are you busy?_ It’s in her hand writing. 

Now that we were openly together - being seen at restaurants, coming and going with her from the office - she had insisted that we actually _work_ while at work (well, most of the time, anyway). Something about how she _needed to earn her pay_ and I _had a company to run_. 

But this note… hmm… perhaps she has all her homework done for the day...

In a flash I’m out my door, walking across the floor, nodding to people as they glance up at me. Only my secretary has a little extra curl to her smile, as she knows I don’t have any meetings scheduled. 

The door to her corner office is ajar. I barely break stride as I rap twice and swing the door in. 

She’s leaning over her desk, but my anticipation sinks as soon as I see Walter standing beside her. They’re both staring down at her desk. She glances up. “Oh good, you’re here.”

I cover my disappointment. “What’s going on?”

“Come see. It’s terrible.”

I approach the desk from the side opposite her, so she rotates the large photograph they’re looking at and slides it towards me. A large mechanical creature of sorts is moving back and forth through a grassy field. My brows come together. “What is it?”

“It’s a bulldozer. It’s used in Muggle construction.”

I stare at her, confused. “Construction of what?”

“A highway.” She says in all seriousness.

I’m certain I’ve heard the term before but can’t quite recall it. “A what?”

Her eyes roll. “A road. A very, very big road.”

“Oh… and..?”

She lets out a throaty grunt in frustration. “It’s going to go straight by the Golden Snidget Sanctuary!”

“Oh…” Oh Merlin, not these damn birds again. “I thought the Sanctuary had protective wards?”

“It does. Ones that will redirect Muggles who are going on a walk in the woods, but they can’t dissuade a GPS-guided, highly engineered paving of an eight lane highway. This could ruin _everything_.”

I feel bad (not for the birds, but rather for her as I know how she loves the stupid little things). “How much longer until they reach the Sanctuary?”

“Four months, maybe three.”

Merlin! Gryffindors and their dramatics. “That’s _plenty_ of time.” But instead of being reassured she continues to hover over the other photos on her desk, each one a different shot of the highway’s construction. I come around to stand next to her. “How can I help?”

“I-- I’m sorry, this isn’t your responsibility. I just saw this and I… I wanted to tell you.”

Even with Walter there I wrap my arm around her shoulders and pull her into my side. “You’ll work through this. I’ll help you if you need it. You haven’t gotten this far just to give up on them now.” I give her shoulder a squeeze. “So what ideas do you have?”

Her spirit apparently bolstered, she turns to me with a spark in her eyes. “Well…”

****

* * *

It’s after two on Thursday, and we’re only just sitting down for lunch on my office couch.

“Congratulations Granger. You’ve secured an emergency hearing with the Wizengamot.”

She let out a disappointed sigh as she pops the lid on her take away. “Yes, a _month_ from now.” She had been hoping for tomorrow, of course. 

“It’s still plenty of time.”

“Well, hold your congratulations until then. I still have to _win_ the injunction,” she says, worry soaking through her voice. 

“You’ll win hands down. At the very least they won’t want Muggles stumbling through the areas that are already magically protected. This sort of thing is approved all the time.” I unwrap my sandwich; the bread is still warm from being freshly baked.

She sighs and stabs her salad, and we eat in silence for a minute. She’d been at the office until the wee hours of the morning, putting the paperwork together for her hearing request. She hadn’t needed me but I had stayed, catching up on paperwork, to make sure she got home after. 

This morning she’d gone to the Ministry an hour before opening so she could be first in line for petitions. The damned birds were the only thing she had talked about for the last twenty-four hours, so it catches me off guard when she asks, “Did you know that there’s a whole network of Lance Gainsworth fans that have written continuing stories about the characters in his novels?”

My sandwich halts midway to my mouth. “You mean... fanfiction?”

“Yes! You know about it?” The lack of sleep is making her shriekier than usual. 

“Well, yes. It's been around for a long time.” I take a bite. 

“Have you ever read any of it?” she asks in a measured tone.

I blink. “Never bothered.” And then it suddenly dawns on me: loose sheafs of paper tucked into a folder as I entered her office; that I have no idea what book she’s currently reading because she hadn’t talked about one in a week or so. “Are _you_ reading some of it now?”

“I-- Yes, I just might be.” She’s looking at her salad but I can still see the colour rise in her cheek. _Oh_. How interesting. “One of the ladies in the book club reads it,” she confesses after a moment. _Ah ha_. 

“You know,” I say in as bored a tone as I can muster, “you have to be careful with that stuff. I hear that some of it gets rather _randy_. Downright_ pornograph_ic.”

If her cheeks were heated before, they were down right flaming now. “Oh?” she asks innocently.

I check myself, to make sure all my walls are down. “Hermione...” With a single finger I turn her chin towards me. “I don't care what you _read_. Really. If you like it, then go ahead. Enjoy. I just want to be the only person for you _off_ the page.”

“You really... don’t mind?” she asks carefully.

The silly bint. “No, of _course_ not. If it makes you happy then that's all that matters to me.”

She let out a huge sigh and stabs at her salad again. “Oh. Good then.”

My voice switches to off-the-cuff-casual as I turn back to my sandwich. “And if it leads you to want to do kinky things in the bedroom, then all the better, I say.”

The scowl she gives me could turn a basilisk to stone.

****

* * *

The next afternoon I pop over to her office. “How are things?” 

She keeps her eyes on the huge tome in front of her. “Umm, okay I think.”

I turn and see that ‘the Wall’ is back, only this incarnation is a map showing the Sanctuary and the surrounding lands, with a large red line representing the ‘highway’ emblazoned on it. The line is marked with dates showing the Muggles’ progress. The photos of the sleeping-bull-things are up on the Wall too, with lines pointing to where they were taken. There are also concentric circles drawn around the Sanctuary, labeled with phrases like ‘minimal safe distance’ and ‘fifty percent noise reduction’; the largest circle was marked ‘ideal for minimal impact’. On its current path the red line would miss the sanctuary, but would clip though all of the circles. 

However, by the looks of things it was still _very _far away. 

I turn back to her. “Is it still okay if I go with Wentworth to woo the new client?” New _potential _client, really. A Swiss clockmaker looking to expand to London; I had heard of him through ‘the old boy’s club’. I’m dressed in a Muggle inspired suit as we’re meeting at a Muggle hotel.

“Uh huh,” she answers in the affirmative, but I’m not sure if she actually heard the question. 

I stare at her for a moment. “Should we cancel dinner with Mother tonight?”

At that her head snaps up. “Oh no. Don’t do that.”

“Well with my meeting being pushed back I suspect I’ll be late.” The new client had been scheduled to arrive in London this morning but his flight had been delayed, pushing the meeting to the very end of day. “And you do seem _slightly_ busy with all…” - I gesture at the Wall - “...this.”

“Well with my Wizengamot date so far away I’m going to have plenty of time to prepare, and it feels like so long since I’ve seen your mother.”

“It was last Friday.”

“I _know_ but all of _this_ has come up since then.” She closes the giant tome. “In fact would you mind if I go early and check the library for anything on misdirection illusions?”

I smile. “Not at all. I’ll let her know you’ll pop over early and if I don’t make it by six-thirty you two should go ahead without me.” I walk over to stand next to her chair.

A few of her brown curls fall back as she looks up at me. “Thank you.”

I lean and give her a little kiss. “Anytime.” 

“Good luck,” she calls as I head to the elevators.

****

* * *

It’s nearly six-thirty, and Wentworth’s associate and I are exiting the hotel where we’d met the new client. 

We’d landed the account. 

“You have everything, yes? You have a key to get in?” I ask him. I check to make sure his satchel is latched properly. 

“Yes Mr. Malfoy.” All he had to do was drop the paperwork at the office, and we could sort it all out on Monday.

“Because I will come with you if you’re going to fuck it up.”

“No, Mr. Malfoy. I have it.” 

“Good. But it’s your hide if any of it goes missing.” 

“Yes, Mr. Malfoy.” The fellow was only a year younger than I but here he was scraping and grovelling. Merlin, I loved being the boss.

“If something _does_ happen Floo me at my home.” Of course that was the rule all the time. If there was any emergency, I always just a Floo call away.

“Yes, sir.”

“See you Monday.” And with that I start walking towards the nearest apparition point. I’m still smiling as I walk up the Manor’s front steps, and I’m so excited that I head straight to the library to brag. 

I enter quietly, listening. She isn’t in view so I silence my shoes and start creeping through the aisles. Just the idea of surprising her in a back corner of the library still gives me a thrill, even if we weren’t going to have a chance to fool around. 

I’m peering through shelves on either side of me when I come across a sight I’m not expecting: I find her... _reading. _Not leafing through a book, trying to decide if she wants to borrow it. Not skimming an index to see if it contains what she needs. She’s tucked away in a quiet corner, in an armchair, reading from a thick stack of loose parchment. Ah, yes. Her new hobby. Fanfiction. Bundles of paper, owled from reader to reader, sometimes as whole works, sometimes a chapter at a time.

I’m trying to decide how best to sneak around back of her when her eyes widen... and she _squirms_. 

I’ve seen her read. I’ve seen her squirm. But never had these things happen at the same time, at least not without some major contribution on my part. Sure she had fidgeted while reading the occasion bedroom scene, but never anything like _this_. Her whole body undulates subtly as she reads down the page. She closes her eyes, then bites her lip. She adjusts her hips, then takes a deep breath. I’m getting hard just watching her. Whatever she’s reading she’s quite captivated, and in turn she’s captivating me.

She lifts off the top page to put it to the bottom when _crack_. “Mippy is here to fetch Miss for supper.”

She nearly jumps out of her chair at Mippy's sudden interruption, clutching her papers to her chest. “I-- Yes. Thank you Mippy.” She shoves the papers into one of the books sitting in a pile next to her, and struggles to gather them and her work satchel in her arms. Mippy has already turned towards the door, and Granger’s following a few steps behind in a fluster. 

And somehow neither of them notice the single sheet of parchment that drifts silently to the floor. I freeze, not even allowing myself to breathe for a moment. 

I listen for the door and the moment it closes I find myself standing over the page. We had both made a conscious effort to not snoop about each others' things, to ask when we had questions. But this... this was a stray piece of paper on the floor of my home. Discarded and lost objects have questionable legal ownership. And it’s not as if I have some nefarious reason to inspect the page; if anything my intentions are altruistic.

I snatch it up and before I can talk myself out of it, my eyes are roving down the page. It _is_ a fanfiction, of the _Undesirable_ series. It’s written from the point of view of the main character’s female friend, the one who always helps him find critical pieces of information through research and intellect. And it seems that she’s having a romantic entanglement with - oh for _Merlin’s_ sake - their _other_ friend. How predictable. My eyes keep scanning down the page. Couldn't the writer have come up with something more-

There’s a mistake. That has to be a mistake. Instead of the _other_ friend's name, the name of Undesirable number six is in the next para-

Oh. No. Not a mistake. Because in the following paragraph they’re _both_ there, and they’re _both _busy interacting with different anatomical sites belonging to the female friend.

If my erection had waned at Mippy's appearance, it certainly perks up as I read the rest of the page, not so much from the text itself, but rather from the memory of how _she_ had reacted while reading it, all lusty eyes and heavy breathing. 

I don’t really have a plan, but I find myself shrinking the page down in size and slipping it into my jacket pocket.

I walk slowly on my way to the dining room, thinking of this morning’s meeting with Waterstone. At least the woman had one use; the thought of her could put a damper on _anything_, and indeed by the time I’m halfway there I’m cured of the problem in my pants. 

The second half of my walk is devoted to isolating my memories from those few minutes in the library, tucking them away in a certain velvet lined box. I haven’t done this in sometime - the lid almost feels stiff with disuse - but something instinctual tells me not to waste this chance; this _opportunity_. When I’m done it’s easy for me to act as if I’ve just come straight from the hotel restaurant, giddy with my own success. The smile on my face surely matches it. 

I push into the dining room with a certain cockiness to my walk. “Good evening everyone.” 

Two heads turn to me and _her_ smile brightens when she sees me. “You seem to be in a good mood.”

I greet Mother with a kiss on the cheek. “Why wouldn’t I be? We got the account.” 

“Oh that’s wonderful, dear.” Mother gives me a gentle squeeze on my arm.

Granger on the other hand hops up and comes around the table to give me a momentary kiss and a quick embrace. “Congratulations. I’m so happy for you.”

I smile back at her and we all sit. They’ve only just started eating. 

“So tell me about your new client,” Mother prompts as a plate of food (a roast of sorts) and matching wine (red, of course) appears before me. 

“He’s a bit of an odd fellow actually; not as enthusiastic as I expected for someone looking to open a new business. He’s the son of a Swiss clock-maker and he himself works in the family business. He’s set to marry a witch from London and he’s planning to move here to be with her. As such he wants to expand the family business with a shop of his own.”

“And the negotiations went well?” Granger asks as she cuts another piece of her roast.

On one hand, it was the easiest account we had bagged all month; on the other… “Well, it was a bit of a mixed victory.”

“And how’s that?” 

“I probably shouldn’t tell you this…” I sigh. “but it was Wentworth’s _house_ that sealed the deal.” Her eyes flick up to me. “One of the father’s cousins lives in Bristol and he’s putting up some of the start-up money. It turns out he was in Gryffindor... a year behind Wentworth.”

Her smile blazes across her face. “Oh, you’re joking.”

“I’m not.” I really am not; my pained expression is only half feigned. “The two started regaling us with tales of saving kittens and by the time I regained consciousness they were signing on the dotted line.” I grimace. Granger just laughs.

Mother suddenly raises her glass. “Well, ten points to Gryffindor.” I groan as if mortally wounded. Mother was making a habit out of doing that when we were both around. She and Granger toast each other, ignoring my existential pain. “Tell me about the clocks, Draco. What kinds do they make. Are they nice?”

I remove my hand from where it had been cradling my brow. “All kinds, really. Very high quality. You never have to correct them; even if you move them between time zones they always tell the correct time. You can ask them to set various alarms. You can adjust the loudness of the ticking and they have many other subtle features. He actually presented Wentworth and I both with one of their basic nightstand clocks.” I pull a small box out of my inner robe pocket and remove the simple yet stylish clock from within, floating it over to Mother first for inspection. 

Mother turns the clock this way and that. “And he does the clock making himself?”

“Yes. And in a pinch he can handle sales, but with a family on the horizon,” I allow myself a glance at Hermione for a split second, her eyes darting to me before I look away, “his father thinks he should let someone else handle the administrative side of the business.” I send a grin across the table. “And so we shall.”

“Here’s to that,” Granger lifts her glass.

“Cheers,” I reply.

My mother just lifts her glass and we all take a drink.

****

* * *

After bidding Mother goodnight we slip up to my room in our usual clandestine fashion. I offer to carry her books, but she only lets me carry half; the half _not_ containing the book that has her fanfiction stuffed in it. When we reach my room I send the books to land on the bedside table - the bedside table on what was fast becoming _her _side of the room - and I sit in the armchair on _my_ side of the room. 

I take my new clock out of its box again and set it on my bedside table. I stare at it and for a split second a flash of images runs across my conscious. _A sharp inhalation. The biting of her lower lip_. Quickly I tuck the memories away again. Merlin, I’m out of practice.

“What is it?” she asks as she walks about the room behind me.

I chid myself for becoming so sloppy; it’s slips like that that could have meant life or death had things turned out differently (although really, has the danger not passed?). “Oh, just thinking about the new client,” I say, watching the hands of the clock tick around. “I want to make sure we meet all their needs.” 

When she speaks again her voice is slightly muffled; she must be in the wardrobe. “I'm sure it’ll be fine. You’re good with these things.” I turn as she re-emerges, now wearing a silky nightgown in burgundy (they say relationships are all about compromise).

I smile at her as she approaches. “I'm just worried that they won't be upfront with what they want. That I’ll miss something and disappoint them.”

She closes the distance between us, using the front of my suit to pull me up to a stand in front of her. “I doubt you'll let that happen.”

“We'll see,” I say. I let her push my suit jacket - with its questionably acquired contents - off my shoulders and onto the floor. We kiss and fall into bed, and she’s perfect as always.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can bug me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/InaraLock) or [Tumblr](https://darksideofme-reylo.tumblr.com/).


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   


So, I had finished this fic ~November 2019 — it was five chapters — and while I still really like the first chapter, the rest just kinda… fell flat. And that’s on me. I even knew while I was writing it that it wasn’t really _working_ but I still posted the other chapters anyway, and for a long time I've just feel bad/guilty whenever someone likes or comments on the fic. 

I think the time turner mechanics and some of the ideas were good, but there were a lot of places where I was trying way too hard. 

So for now I’m taking down the rest of the fic. Apologies to anyone that wrote comments that were lost in this process; they will forever live in my email inbox.

I don’t know if I’m going to give it a second shot, but for now thank you again to everyone that read and commented.

-DarkSideOfMe, Jun 20/20


End file.
